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Me, Myself and OCD

(Trigger warnings: intrusive thoughts and self harm).

This week was a bit of an off week. And while I do my best to keep stuff “light and fun” here, I’d feel like a liar if I wasn’t also keeping things honest af.

I was really feeling, “bleh.” Like I’d been sucker punched in the gut.

I think being a professional artist is a bit of a rollercoaster. There are some high highs… and some low lows.

And this week felt low.

I started having sneaky, creepy doubts about my new studio, basically: I won’t sell enough art to pay my rent.

And that’s been my crap thought of the week: I made a mistake and I’m not going to be able to fix it.

As a result, I binge ate (way more than I’d care to admit) and I did some real damage to my hands, they look AWFUL.

Last year I was diagnosed with severe OCD. For me that looks like intrusive thoughts (we’ll get to those in a minute), binge eating, and finger picking (it’s a gross, very visual and really embarrassing habit).

Anyway, this past week was really tough to keep all the “big feelings” at bay.

I’ve suffered from horrible intrusive thoughts since I was a teenager. They’re terrifying, disturbing, often times violent, and usually focus on self harm.

In addition I will see myself, almost in third person, carrying out terrible things that I would NEVER do nor want to do. It’s like this movie in my head that plays on a loop and these thoughts and visions have at points, gotten so severe that they have impacted my day to day life (hence the therapy).

Why am I bringing all this up?

Without fail any show I do, I will have at least one person tell me, “You’ve got such an interesting mind, I’d love to know what goes through your brain,” and by golly, I shudder. They’d run in abject terror. I always smile and say, “I promise you wouldn’t like to see all that.”

They laugh, I laugh… everyone’s laughing. But inside I feel like I dodged a bullet, “Can you imagine if that poor person was stuck with this loop on repeat in their heads? Like some super fucked up freaky Friday plot?” I’ll think to myself.

So yes, this past week was rough. Binging, picking, whole lot of self doubt and reeling anxiety.

Though I will say this, and I have to laugh: my sub-conscious mind has also got a hell of a sense of humor.

While for almost 25 years my intrusive thoughts have centered around jerking my steering wheel into oncoming traffic, jumping off buildings, drinking my liquid resin (you know, the fun stuff), my brain finally mixed it up.

The neighbors behind us have a very large above ground swimming pool. They were all in there the other day. Splashing, playing, having a grand time... and… well… I snapped.

I opened up their chain link fence, the clinking of the gate got their attention. They stopped playing and looked at me. The husband says, “hey,” but I don’t answer him. The wife gives him a look.

Their kids haven’t said anything, they’re just staring and I walk calmly up to the pool. “Hey,” he says again, this time a little confused. I don’t say a word, I don’t even see them. I walk right up to the pool, it’s tall, I can barely see over the sides and then I drop to my knees and the bottom of the pool, and I pull out the little pocket knife my husband gave me the other day.

With one quick motion I jam the blade into the bottom of the pool and with all my might I slash horizontally as hard as I can into the plastic liner. There’s a rush of water, as my blade slices the liner a good three feet across and a whoosh. I step out of the way of the torrent, calmly flip the blade down and begin to walk away as the entire family and the full contents of their pool come spilling through the large gash I just cut. Their lawn floods, the alley floods, everyone is yelling. I snicker and walk away. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” The husband, covered in dirt and grass clippings, sputtering pool water, wants to know.

Except he doesn’t say that, he waves from inside his pool, and I wave back as I walk the dog past their house, I check to make sure, there’s no knife in my pants pocket, even though I know damn well there isn’t.

Just another intrusive thought, but this one makes me laugh. I’m not nervous, I don’t feel gross, I just laugh: picturing the torrent of water and the flamingo inner tube and the entire family rolling onto the grass, the looks of absolute shock on their faces… and me just calmly walking away like actors do after an epic onscreen explosion.

I thank my brain for changing up the thoughts… this one isn’t all that dark, it’s comical really, like something you’d see in a movie. I laugh thinking about the woman wanting to “see what goes on inside my head,” and I tell myself: it’s all going to be ok.

Everything will be ok.

Everything will be ok.

Everything. Will. Be. Ok.

And it will be.


Spray paint, acrylic, vinyl lettering and resin on wood panel

11” x 14” - AVAILABLE

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